


darling, never settle

by januarys



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: F/M, North Yankton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/januarys/pseuds/januarys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>North Yankton. Michael traces the rim of his glass with a tiny grin and the condensation trickles onto the coaster. <i>“I ain’t the kind of guy who gets embarrassed easy, but you? Shit, you’re making me blush sweetheart.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	darling, never settle

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little conversation between these two. Set during North Yankton.

Amanda wears bright red lipstick which bleeds around the corner of her mouth and her threadbare cardigan isn’t enough to keep her warm in the North Yankton climate, but her cheeks are rosy from the whiskey Michael bought for her and her smile is enough to keep _him_ warm all night long.

“Men like you are hard to find,” Amanda says with a Cheshire Cat smile. “Because men like _you_ are just too good to be true.”

Michael traces the rim of his glass with a tiny grin and the condensation trickles onto the coaster. “I ain’t the kind of guy who gets embarrassed easy, but you? _Shit_ , you’re making me blush sweetheart.”

“About time!”

“Well, I had a feeling your eyes were always searching for me.”

“Well,” Amanda swallows another mouthful of the amber liquid and makes a face. “I like my men _good_ with a little more muscle. You fit the criteria.”

Michael pretends to be hurt but it’s all apart of the game. Cat and mouse. He’s the robber and she’s the gold waiting to be held in his hands. “Mandy, I’m hurt.”

“Tell it like I see it,” Amanda places a hand on Michael’s arm and it makes Michael's heart beat a little faster, makes the heat pool deep down in his belly. “I’m good at reading people Michael.”

“I don’t believe that,” Michael raises an eyebrow. “Not that you’re not good at, ah, _other_ things but you don’t seem like that kind of woman who-”

Amanda’s eyes flash and she grips her glass tighter. “Finish that sentence Townley. I fucking _dare_ you. I’ve been meaning to hang your balls from a plaque for awhile now.”

Michael quite happens to like his balls, his whole package really (because his dick is pretty fucking amazing, sue him), so he presses his thighs together and throws Amanda his movie-star grin. She eases down a little but her nose is still scrunched together and it makes her Marilyn-pout stand out.

He covers her cold hand with his own and links their fingers together, playing with them like they’re children out in the schoolyard. “Sorry babe, the company that I keep sometimes isn’t in my own best interests.”

“Your intentions are good, obviously.” Amanda says shortly but her eyes sparkle and Michael knows that he’s won that round again.

“Obviously.” He traces a thumb along her knuckles. “Now: read me.”

“What?” She blinks at the conversation whiplash.

“Read me, babe. I wouldn’t mind being studied by a pair of _those_ eyes.”

Amanda giggles and _yeah Townley you still got it_ , before she places her glass down onto the bar and leans in closer to Michael. The dim lights from the bar cast shadows along her features and her cheekbones are a little higher and her jaw is a little sharper and Michael wants to run his mouth along her skin just to know what she tastes like. Probably sex and sweat and that cheap jasmine perfume she insists on wearing but _boy_ , does it suit her.

She squints at him for a moment before nodding to herself. “Yeah, you _think_ you're a good guy Michael.”

Michael stops breathing for a moment because Amanda does that to him and right now is not an exception. "What makes you say that?"

Amanda shrugs. "You've got the ambition and the drive to get to where you want to go. But you're conflicted."

"About what, exactly?"

"Isn't it obvious babe?" Amanda smooths her hand over Michaels jacket and settles on his shoulder, her cheap fake nails digging into the bulk of the material. "You want something normal and familiar. Roots, I guess."

Michael reaches over to tuck a dark curl behind her ear, and he hopes she doesn't notice his trembling hand. "Doesn't everyone? Don't _you_ want roots as well, Mandy?"

Amanda nods and her eyes shine a little. "You're different though. You want the picket fence and the manicured lawns and _probably_ the two point five kids running around your ankles too, right?"

"You said it first." Michael says quickly, and he wants this conversation to be over because it's hitting a little too close to home.

"But you want the other stuff too honey," Amanda's voice is soft and almost pleading. "You want the chases and the thrills and the millions in your shitty little bank account and, for some _god_ forsaken reason, you want that psychopath _Trevor_ hanging off your every word-"

"No, I _don't_." Michael bites because he _really_ doesn't want that at all. Anymore, anyway.

"Yes you _do_ because I've seen the both of you babe: you love the fact that he's practically in awe of your everything."

Alright that part is true but, "Are you going somewhere with all of this, Mandy?"

Amanda rolls her eyes. "Typical fucking male, always trying to avoid the big issues! But yeah Michael, I'm going somewhere with all of this and it's pretty much that you're an egotistical asshole who wants too much and gives nothing in return."

"...but?" Michael quips hopefully.

"You're a good guy," Amanda finishes with a soft smile, and Michael thinks he can fall in love with her again and again and again. "You just don't know what you want."

"That's a straight out lie, babe." Michael leans in a little closer again and Amanda's breath is sweet and warm against his lips. "I know that I want you."

Amanda's fingers trail down Michaels jaw and she holds his chin with a thumb and a finger. "Michael Townley, what makes you think that _I_ want _you_?"

"You like good men with a bit of muscle babe," Michael wipes away the bleeding lipstick with a thumb and the faded smear is a glaring contrast against her pale face. "I think I fit your criteria."

"Asshole," she mutters, and Amanda tastes like whiskey and sex and everything he wants against his lips for the rest of his days because it’s unconventional, their situation. Yet... the picket fence life is something he could have with her. The night is still young.


End file.
